


Long Nights on La Sirena

by cnroth, Curator, gijane7702



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Humor, enthusiastic sex, the new deck nine section twelve, unwilling eavesdropping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:47:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25207951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cnroth/pseuds/cnroth, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curator/pseuds/Curator, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gijane7702/pseuds/gijane7702
Summary: During the decades Seven of Nine was connected to the hive mind, she assimilated information from thousands of species. That knowledge was technological, anthropological, and … of unique benefit to Raffi Musiker … sexual.
Relationships: Agnes Jurati/Cristóbal Rios, Raffi Musiker/Seven of Nine
Comments: 24
Kudos: 41





	Long Nights on La Sirena

Captain Vandermeer always said a crew could bond over the thrill of discovery or a crew could bond over shared adversity.

Cris hadn’t expected it to be both.

Then again, _La Sirena_ was hardly a Starfleet vessel.

He’d hoped Agnes might somehow sleep through the sounds tonight, that the fatigue of night after night of disturbed sleep would catch up with her and allow much-needed rest. But she rolled toward him, blonde hair askew, hands balled over her eyes.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she slurred. “That shouldn't be humanly possible.”

Cris considered pointing out that humans may be the least relevant species to what had become audible in the compartment next to theirs. Whatever he might have said, though, was drowned out, as usual, by the next announcement.

“Species 259.” Seven’s voice was clear through the bulkhead. “Because they’re omnicordial life forms that exist in a transmaterial energy plane, their pursuit of sexual pleasure entails the ability to —”

The sound Raffi made was deep and reverberating.

Maybe, Cris mused, Agnes would be up to playing their game? 

“Scream or moan?” He gestured toward the bulkhead.

But Agnes’ reply was drowned out by more sounds, then Raffi’s shout of, “I love Species 259! Oh my God, do I love Species 259! Holy fucking fuck, this is —"

Seven’s voice was almost syrupy sweet. “Then you’re going to love Species 310.”

Agnes threw the covers back. “I can’t deal with this. I’m leaving this room.”

***

Cris and Agnes sat at a galley table in their nightclothes, cards in their hands, coffees untouched.

Over his fan of cards, Cris watched Agnes. 

“Do you have any threes?” 

Her lips curled in a smirk. “Go fish.”

There was a crash from the direction of crew quarters and their heads turned.

“Species 3482?” Agnes whispered.

Cris shook his head. “That was the one that they disabled the artificial gravity for. Maybe Species 491? Or maybe just that one Klingon in particular from Unimatrix Zero? What was his name?”

There was a shrug, a request whether Cris had any sixes, and a very tired-looking Romulan staggering out from crew quarters.

“For how long does the loudness persist when a new couple finds itself sexually compatible?” Elnor clutched the stuffed cat Soji had replicated for him. His sleep robes were rumpled. “I am very tired.”

Agnes patted next to her and Elnor sat.

“Biologically, the lust and early attraction phases of love are associated with a cocktail of neurotransmitter activations including phenylethylamine, serotonin, oxytocin, and dopamine.” Agnes sighed. “These chemicals can decrease the need for sleep and increase sexual desire for months.”

“Months?” Elnor’s head shook. “I do not think I can continue to lose sleep for months.”

“Try being an android who shouldn’t even need to sleep, but was programmed to crave rest.” Soji padded in. “If I could access my own neural net to override the sleep subroutine, I would.”

There was another crash, followed by a cry of, “Species 491, I love you! I love you so fucking much!” 

Cris grinned. “Hey, Species 491! I was right!”

“Which means they’re repeating, not just going through species with sexual practices compatible to human or human-xB biology.” Soji’s head tilted. “Something I was afraid would happen.”

Elnor’s forehead lowered to the table.

***

“Do you have any sevens?” Elnor asked Soji.

“Go fish.”

“Captain Rios!”

Four heads swiveled to see Jean-Luc Picard stride in wearing black sleep shorts, a black shirt, and an irritated expression.

Cris rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, you can’t sleep?”

For a second, it looked like Picard would stomp his foot in irritation. Instead, as Cris was becoming accustomed, Picard began a speech.

“I lived on starships for most of my life. On the _Stargazer_ , a bulkhead separated my quarters from a Denobulan with five spouses, of which two were onboard. On the _Enterprise_ , the bulkhead between my quarters and Commander Riker’s received upgrades in soundproofing five times over the years. But I have never, ever encountered such —" 

There was a loud groan, then a scream of, “Oh, fuck me, Species 493! I love you, Species 493! Holy fucking fuck!”

Picard continued, “Such inconsiderate, infantile, intrusive behavior as this!”

“Hey,” Cris grinned, “it’s a lot of things, but it’s not infantile.” 

Elnor looked up at Picard. “Weren’t you assimilated, too? Do you know these different species?”

Seven’s voice flowed through the bulkheads, “Now, this is from Species 3946.”

Picard flushed slightly. “I do, Elnor, recall a few things. However, that does not justify —”

“Oooh, what do you know?” Everyone turned to look at Agnes, and she bristled. “What? Scientific curiosity.” 

Picard turned and Cris wondered if the old man would chime at Raffi and Seven’s door and demand silence. Instead, Picard went to the replicator and tapped. Something materialized and when the old man returned to the table, he slid a small case in front of Cris and opened it.

“Poker chips.” Cris pulled a gold chip from its place in the case.

“If we are to be awakened in the middle of the night, we are to conduct ourselves with dignity,” Picard said.

Soji picked up a chip. “You know my programming allows me to count cards, right?”

Picard smiled at her, a faraway look in his eyes. “Yes, but I trust you not to cheat. Now, who would like to explain bluffing to Elnor?”

***

Agnes won a big pot during Species 2842 and Species 1073.

Elnor tried to bluff for the first time during Species 984 — during which the activity in Raffi and Seven’s quarters was vigorous enough to throw the ship slightly off course, so Cris had Emmet, the Emergency Navigational Hologram, make the course correction — but Soji called Elnor’s bluff and won the pot. 

Picard was looking good to win a pot when a cry of, “Oh my God, Raffi, it’s like you’re a native Species 852!” had him mutter, “Species 852. _Merde_.” He folded his hand and excused himself for a few moments.

While he was gone, Agnes leaned forward. “What I’m most interested in is Species 5282. That sounded good.”

Elnor frowned. “It sounded painful.”

“Painful can be good.” One side of Agnes’ lips curled up.

Cris hadn’t prayed in years, but his eyes fluttered closed as he sent silent hope to Saint Christopher to protect him. When Cris’ eyes opened, Soji was staring at him. 

“Appealing to a higher power?” she asked. 

Just then there was a thud from the direction of crew quarters and Seven’s voice crying, “Lord have mercy, you’ve made Species 4972 my new favorite,” and Raffi growling, “Not for long if I can do what you showed me from Species 589. Good God, Species 589 is — fuck! Fuck, yes!”

Soji’s head inclined toward the shouts. “Lotta invocation of deities going around, I’d say.”

“Would it help?” Elnor looked over his poker cards. “If we all prayed together, would they stop?”

“Doubtful.” Picard re-took his seat. “The ecstasy of prayer might actually remind them of —” 

“Species 792!” Seven’s shout layered over Picard’s low voice. 

“ _Merde_ ,” Picard muttered again. He reached for the cards already on the table. “Let’s start a new game. Species 792 could be awhile.”

***

They played five-card stud, seven-card high/low, and Federation Day rules — all to varied sounds of pleasure from crew quarters. They were dealing a variation on Texas Hold ‘Em that left out Elnor, who had fallen asleep with his head on his stuffed cat, when the lights brightened from night watch to day watch.

Agnes blinked. 

Cris shaded his eyes and mumbled something about taking over the bridge from holograms as Raffi strode in holding Seven’s hand. The impeccably dressed women surveyed the wrinkled nightclothes and drawn faces of their friends. There were stacks of poker chips and scatterings of cards.

“Talk about irresponsible.” Raffi’s tongue clicked. “Staying up all night playing cards.”

“I’ll say.” Seven’s ocular implant rose. “A pyjama-and-poker party when you should be sleeping? And keeping poor Elnor up, too? You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

There were grins on their lips.

Healthy glows on their cheeks.

Mischief in their eyes.

There was not one telepathic species onboard, but Cris knew what those gathered at the table were thinking — and he was finally ready to let it happen.

He began collecting the cards into a neat stack. “Funny you should mention shame after what I’ve learned about Species 2947.”

Raffi and Seven exchanged a look.

“That’s nothing compared to Species 928.” Soji yawned — an action Cris wasn’t sure if she was faking for effect or actually felt, but he liked the way it made Seven and Raffi squirm.

When she met Cris’ eyes, Raffi gave a slow nod. “So you all were listening.”

“Listening?” Agnes gestured outward, indicating the whole ship. “The bulkheads were shaking.”

“Were we _that_ loud?” Seven asked, her lips curling with what seemed to be shifting from embarrassment to amusement. Or … swagger?

Soji handed a neat row of poker chips to a scowling Picard, who was meticulously storing them in the box. “Yes,” she said, “you were _that_ loud.”

Raffi squeezed Cris’ shoulder. “Sounds like you need to upgrade your soundproofing.” 

He slid the cards into their box and folded the flap shut. “And how, exactly, is that going to happen? You’re going to pay for new components?”

“All right, honey. I’ll see what I can rig with what we have.” Raffi nodded at Elnor. “Is someone gonna wake him, or are we just leaving him there?”

“I’ve got it.” Soji passed the last of the poker chips to Picard before gently shaking Elnor awake.

Blinking, Elnor lifted his head from his makeshift pillow. “Has the loudness stopped?”

Soji smiled. “Yes, the loudness has stopped.”

“Thank God,” Agnes muttered, pushing up from the table and shuffling to the head.

Elnor glanced from Raffi to Seven. “For how long will this loudness continue on a nightly basis?”

The two women exchanged another look. 

Seven patted Elnor’s hand, resting on top of his stuffed cat. “We’ll try to keep it down.”

“I shall hold you both to that,” Picard said, holding Raffi’s gaze when she met his eye. Though his tone was stern, there was no anger behind it.

In fact, Cris could swear he saw a hint of jocularity in the old man.

Raffi must have seen it too, because instead of a snappy retort, her face softened and she only said, “Sure, JL.”

“Besides,” Seven added, “we wouldn’t want to subject you to Species 861.” A sly smile tugged at her lips. “You remember that one, don’t you, Picard?”

Picard’s face went ashen. “Holy mother of _merde_.”

Raffi shook her head. “You just had to get one in with your xB bond, didn’t you?”

“He can take it.” Seven shrugged. “In fact, when it comes to Species 861, humans tend to —”

“Well then,” Cris said, smacking the table with his palms, “let’s all get to work.”

And they did, each in turn deactivating a hologram and taking a station. As he watched from his command chair, coffee in hand, Cris hoped somewhere, somehow, Captain Vandermeer was proud of this … unique … bonding for the motley crew of _La Sirena_.


End file.
